


Boomjam 9000

by Savorysavery



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Asexual Female Character, Bisexual Female Character, Friendship, Gen, Japanese Character(s), Queer Themes, The Fujitas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorysavery/pseuds/Savorysavery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The Fujitas were a trio of female villains cut from the final version of Big Hero Six. Clad in stylized kimono that give them a Samurai-meets-sukeban-meets roller derby chicks image, I instantly fell in love with these girls and their tough images. So I’ve created personas for them, given them names and personalities, all based around the two images of them within in BH6 artbook. I hope you enjoy the first of many installments utilizing the Fujitas.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Boomjam 9000

**Author's Note:**

> The Fujitas were a trio of female villains cut from the final version of Big Hero Six. Clad in stylized kimono that give them a Samurai-meets-sukeban-meets roller derby chicks image, I instantly fell in love with these girls and their tough images. So I’ve created personas for them, given them names and personalities, all based around the two images of them within in BH6 artbook. I hope you enjoy the first of many installments utilizing the Fujitas.

 

 **Summary:** Ai Fujioka never wanted to be a heroine, but she did want to be the heroine in her own story.

 **Genre:** Action, Adventure, Friendship

 **Rated:** T

* * *

“Ai, wake up!” Ai Fujioka sighed, shifting from between her warm sheets and comforter, groaning as sunlight seared her half open eyes. It was Monday again, Ai’s third least favorite day, right behind Sunday and Wednesday, and she, of course, like every high schooler in San Fransokyo, had _school_ today.

 

“Five more minutes,” she grunted, shifting back under her blankets. She sighed, content to get a few more minutes of rest, until-

 

“Ai Fujioka, wake up or I’m restricting your karaoke privileges!” Her mother’s voice rang out all the way up the stairs. Ai threw the blankets off in immediate frustration.

 

“Geez, I’m getting up, okay?!” she shouted, kicking her legs out of bed. She stood up, stretched, and sighed again. “It’d be _such_ a _shame_ if I missed one day of class.” _Especially the first day of my final year of classes at San Fransokyo High_ , though Ai.

 

“I heard that!” Ai rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue, forcing herself to get ready.

 

Twenty minutes later, Ai’s skin was flush with color, and her make-up perfect: tacky bubblegum pink lipstick, heavy black eyeliner and mascara, and white eye shadow, speckled with glitter. She coiled half her hair up into a fat bun, stuck a pencil in it, leaving the rest to fall in a straight and straightened up her uniform. It was San Fransokyo High Colors: bright orange and a garish turquoise color, paired with a plain white button down and a gross chocolate brown skirt. Not stellar at all, and definitely not cute.

 

“Mom, what’s for breakfast?” Ai asked, clopping down the stairs. She tossed her bag down next to her seat and plopped down. In the kitchen, her mother, Yoshi, was platting food: a mound of eggs, a small, gooey pool of _natto_ with soy sauce on top, a bowl of rice, and broiled, salted salmon. All Ai’s favorites, in well-portioned amounts, on the expensive ceramic Yoshi only brought out for special things. Special things, like Ai’s last first day of high school. Moments later, Ai’s mom brought the plates out, balanced on her flat, open palms, smile bright.

 

“I made you a nice breakfast so you’ll do well this year.” Suddenly, her eyes widened, smile falling. “Ai, your _hair_!” Ai’s hand instantly came up to her newly dyed locks: strawberry blonde, heavy on the strawberry. It left her hair more pink than blonde, but paired with her new contacts –a fetching ice blue, far different than her dark brown-black eyes– made her look fun.

 

“It’s a temp dye mom. One of the university girls gave me a sample and-” Ai was cut off with her mother’s steadily loudening voice.

 

“Ai, you’ll never get into a good school looking like that!” her mother retorted. She clenched her cup of coffee hard, fingers near ready to snap off the handle.

 

“Like _what_?” Ai intoned. She was used to this routine every time she changed her style. She’d been aiming for Kogal, an Old Tech fashion style that was slowly coming back into fashion. _After all_ , Ai though. _I’ve got to be on the cusp of the new trends. Duh, mom._ Ai’s mom could seriously sound like Old Tech: nearly a hundred years behind sometimes, but without all the stellar neatness about some Old Tech culture.

“Like a delinquent!” Her mother exclaimed. “You look like those bad girls that go to roller races and those illegal bot fights!” Her mother’s complexion paled, and she swooned, half ready to fall out of her seat.

 

“Bot fights and roller, mom? What do I look like, a geek?” Ai groaned, forking more eggs into her mouth. It was better than defending the fact that she _did_ go to roller races and bot fights: in fact, she was a jammer for the Kimon-Ohs and regularly was an MC at some of the junior bot battles and even held fight cards for some of the more pro events.

 

All throughout breakfast, Ai’s mother continued a speech, focused on girls going bad and how she was ruining her life at 17 and how Ai would end up a waitress at one of the late-night cafes for the salary men over in the financial district. In return, Ai kept stuffing her face, chewing extra slow and hard, hoping each bite, each clack of her teeth, would drown out her mother’s droning voice. _Remember it’s all for the Kogal lifestyle_ , Ai reminded herself as her mother’s voice only increased in volume. Their cat, Meelo, was surely just as irritated as she was.

 

Peering over at the clock, Ai smiled. There were only fifteen minutes until the bus came. “Gotta go mom!” she said, scooting the chair back. It screeched loudly and she winced, but snatched up her bag quickly. “I promise I’ll do the dishes tonight to make up for it!”

 

“Ai Fujioka, I am not-” Ai cut her off with a wave, slipping on a pair of mary jane’s as she left.

 

“I gotta go to school so I won’t become a delinquent!” Before Ai’s mother could act, Ai was at the door, sidestepping fat Meelo and slamming the door.

 

Outside, Plum Street was buzzing, tech zipping up and down the wide avenue. Students, all donning that stupid turquoise and orange uniform, milled about the bus stop, chatter filling the air between cars and horn honks. Two girls in particular caught her eye: a short, rail thin girl and a tall, Old Tech classic delinquent with a long skirt who towered above all the students.

 

“Hoshiko!” Ai called out. A short girl turned, a mop of jet hair haphazardly swept across her face. She shifted eagerly, bouncing on a pair of black boots, laced up to the bottoms her knees with ratty, old yellow cord. “Tomiko!” A tall girl, even thinner than the short one, turned, bright, auburn princess cut swishing in the breeze, in time with her super long, brown skirt –a totally _deviant_ modification to the uniform that, somehow, was prettier than the requisite one Ai sported.

 

“Ai!” Hoshiko waved back, lips pressed into a thin line. The left corner quirked up slightly, forming Hoshiko’s trademark smile. Tomiko waved, lips curved into a clever smirk.

 

“Your hair!” Ai preened, pushing the pencil back through her bun so it was center. Tomiko’s eyes, big and brown, were wide, and her mouth was formed into a huge grin. “It’s so wicked!”

 

“Totally wicked,” Hoshiko intoned, nodding. “Your mom?” The question made Ai groan.

 

“Freaked _out_. You’d have though World War III was happening or something.” The trio shared a laugh, leaving Ai with merry smile and lifted spirits, even as the bus hovered up.

 

The doors hissed open and a tinny voice sounded. “Good morning students, and welcome to the first day of this academic year. Please enter now, and take a seat.” The girls climbed on and settled in, near the back where they’d be left alone. Soon, the bus took off, humming softly as its magnetic lifters propelled them into the heart of the city.

 

* * *

 

 

Classes were dull, dull, _dull_.

 

Everything had tech and science involved now and Ai hated it. “I have an Old Tech spirit,” she proclaimed. “I can’t handle all this new stuff. It’s too advanced and geeky.” But really, Ai _hated_ classes, and _hated_ sitting in that cold, uncomfortable desk and listening to her old, boring teachers try to make her care about totally unstellar history from the Old Tech era. There was no challenge, and they all left her wanting more.

 

She knew she was _worth_ wanting more.

 

The trio reconvened over lunch, tucking themselves into a corner over trays of food. Ai had gotten her usual meal: Kitsune Udon, barley tea, rice with _natto_ and mayonnaise, a bowl of whatever fresh fruit they had today, and a chocolate cream puff. As soon as they all settled into their practically assigned seats, they all dug in, taking the first few minutes of lunch to devour their respective meals.

 

“We could be bot fighting, but we’re _here_ ,” Tomiko sighed, taking a bite of her miso udon. The noodles slurped up into her mouth, but didn’t stop her from talking, even as broth dribbled down her chin. “Ever get the feeling we’re wasting our time here?”

 

“Daily,” Ai sighed, even though today was only the first day. Things hadn’t changed since 8th grade, and she didn’t expect them to magic alter now. “Daily.” _Always_ , though Ai. _I’m practically wasting my potential here, and I know it._

 

Hoshiko offered up a wan smile. “Just think, we can do whatever we want after this year. We get to decide our lives.”

 

“And play with the Kimon-Ohs all the time, and maybe even get good enough to be regular players!” Tomiko shouted. Hoshiko nodded curtly, finish her statement with a flourish of her chopsticks. A glob of sticky white rice fell to the tabletop, landing on the pile of crumbs from her melon bread. “We’ll kick some serious butt!”

 

“It’ll be wicked awesome,” Ai said. “We can all move into one of those apartments over near the bay and paint every room a different color!”

 

“And find Old Tech furniture in the antique shops over on Slope Lane!” Tomiko’s eye lit up, eager and excited. Even Hoshiko’s smile stretch far enough that dimples had begun to form.

 

“Derby at night, and what _we_ want during the day,” Ai sighed, smile tugging hard on her left cheek. “What a grand life!”

 

Tomiko raised her carton –a box of sickly saccharine strawberry milk- up into the air. “To our futures! Maybe we’ll have something better than just this.” They all toasted, cans and cartons touching as they took big gulps of drink, letting an easy silence settle in.

 

Suddenly, all their phones pinged. Ai clicked through her screen to the notification: “ _Big Hero 6 save the day once more!_ ” It was lauding the new superteam, a group of five college students, and a medibot, who were quickly becoming a sensation all across San Fransokyo. A block of text was set underneath, detailing their latest escapades: something about a fire over on Diego Avenue, near all the new chem labs and test wards. Ai skimmed it quickly, mood quickly turning sour.

 

In her own way, Ai envied them: she’d do anything to be as exciting as them. All she had was her Old Tech trends, derby, and the bot fights. Her life, outside of that, was fairly mundane: homework, dramas on the net, and karaoke during half-price Wednesdays.

 

Not superhero stellar at _all_. More like super _lame_ , when compared to Big Hero 6.

 

“They’re so popular,” Tomiko whispered, brow furrowing. She pushed a lock of her gang girl length hair back behind an ear, revealing a spree of candy colored piercings that ran from her lobe all the way to the top. “To bad we don’t have that!” She barked out a too lough laugh, shfiting so she was reclining in her chair. “…Right?”

 

“I don’t know if I’d want to be a hero though,” Hoshiko intoned. “They’re too clean cut and stuff.” She stuck her tongue out a bit, nose wrinkling up. “We’re not clean cut girls at all.” That much was true: from Tomiko’s _sukeban_ ascetic, Hoshiko’s generally defected punk look, and Ai’s kogal fashion, they were far from clean cut girls. Coupled with their late night habits, the trio were modern delinquents, traipsing around and having bad girl fun.

 

But not _villains_.

 

At least, Ai didn’t _think_ they villains.

 

“So you want to be a villain?” Tomiko asked. “Like, rob banks and take candy from babies and stuff?” She sounded confiicted, anxious even.

 

“No,” Hoshiko said. “Just not a hero.”

 

Ai crossed her arms, chewing on her bubblegum pink lips. Suddenly, she pushed her tray away, knocking her can of tea onto the floor. It spread in a brown-green pool across the tiles. “Are you okay?” Tomiko asked, eyes wide.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ai twisted, reaching down to her purse. She pulled out a thick sketchpad, worn with time. “Would you seriously wanna do something like this?”

 

“Like what?” Hoshiko asked, sounding curious.

 

“Like those heroes. Well, not like them, but more wicked. Like…” Ai chewed her lip. “Be anti-heroes.”

 

“Anti- _heroines_ ,” Tomiko corrected, waving a finger.

 

“Anti-heroines,” Ai amended, smirking. “Give them a run for their money and stuff.”

 

“It beats being a ring card girl at the pro bot fights,” Hoshiko offered, shrugging.

 

“Beats school and homework too,” Tomiko mused. She took a bit of her barbeque tofu burger, smacking her lips in appreciative thought. “Maybe even the cafeteria food.” It _was_ pretty good, better than all the dollar noodle shops near the school grounds.

 

“Are you serious though?” Ai reiterated. “Because I think this could be something to make our final year _exciting._ ” The word sizzled in the air, jam-packed with emotion, loaded with feeling.

 

Hoshiko leaned forward, voice low. “I think we should do it.” Tomiko and Ai nodded.

 

“We’re gonna need alter egos,” Tomiko said. “We can’t let _anyone_ know that we’re us.” Ai could hardly imagine if her mother found out she was doing something like this. It was already bad enough that she snuck around late at night and on the weekends: to have a daughter who wasn’t clearly on the side of justice would utterly destroy her world.

 

“And names,” Hoshiko said. “Cool names.” She titled her head. “I don’t want something girly like that Honey Lemon chick. Make me like GoGo.”

 

“No named like that Wasabi guy either. I don’t wanna be food!” Tomiko interjected. “I wanna be _awesome_.”

 

 _Color coded names_ , Ai thought. _Definitely color coded. And stylish outfits. Stand out kind of outfits._

Tomiko and Hoshiko rattled off more requests: names, group titles, and the like. Ai wrote them down in tiny, looping cursive, another Old Tech thing she liked.

 

“We’re gonna be big,” Ai whispered, setting her pencil to paper and sketching fast. “ _Wicked_ big.”

 

 

 


End file.
